That Doesn't Mean Anything
by MoonyLover321
Summary: It doesn't mean anything that my best friend, who knows me better than anyone else, including myself, thinks that I like someone. Do you hear me, you pathetic group of morons? It doesn't mean anything! Dramione Draco/Hermione


Summary: It doesn't mean anything that my best friend, who knows me better than anyone else, including myself, thinks that I like someone. Do you hear me, you pathetic group of morons? It doesn't mean anything! Dramione Draco/Hermione

Author's Note: Just for fun!

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

_**That Doesn't Mean Anything**_

Everyone has that one person that understands them. Come on, you know what I mean, you're not a group of worthless Hufflepuffs, for Merlin's sake. That one person that just GETS you... Who you are, what you stand for, the whole picture. Blaise Zabini (the lucky devil), is that person for me. He understands the real me, underneath all of my hapless layers.

Merlin, that sounded like we're gay lovers or something, didn't it (but who wouldn't want to shag me?)! I'll try it again... How do I put this? Okay, I got a way to phrase it so all you Cedric Diggorys out there'll understand... Blaise is the guy that knows me so well that he can tell what I feel better than I can myself. It's like if I'd get cut, he'd yell "OW" before I'd even notice what's happening.

You think it sounds great, don't you? Having someone who knows you so well? Yeah, well, that just proves that you've got less brains than Longbottom. It SUCKS!! I'd rather have double Care Of Magical Creatures with the Gryffindors than have someone as close to me as Blaise is. And do you know what's worse than having someone know you're every want, need, and feeling? Having them call you on it.

You heard right, folks! Whenever that stuck-up little Slytherin used his Trelawney-esque abilities to read my mind and saw something weird, he'd talk with me about it. He'd just turn to me and ask me about whatever it was that he found "strange." I know! Right out of nowhere he'd start talking about "how not to worry that Potter was able to transfigure his spider into a flower easier than I could"(which is exactly what I was upset about at the time).

It wasn't a problem, at first. It was rather nice, actually, having someone to talk to about anything. Blaise's sixth sense wasn't annoying at all, in fact, until second year, the first time he stated his outrageously crazed theory.

We were, as we did every night, sneaking out of bed in order to head down to the kitchens and get a midnight snack. Since my father had been a VERY important contributor to the school and it's funding, he knew all of the passageways backward and forward, and he happened to let slip how to get into the kitchens. I had just finished ordering some butterbeer (coffee for Blaise) and biscuits for us when Blaise spoke up.

"What do you think about the attacks?"

I shifted my head to look into his eyes, only to find that he was staring off into the distance at some weird portrait of a stern-looking woman wearing a flowing black gown.

"What do you mean, 'what do I think'?" I inquired, now also watching the lady in the painting as she lifted her spectacles to her eyes, as if to focus in on us.

"Well, a lot of people have been petrified," Blaise stated, flashing me a quick sidelong glance. "What if someone dies next?"

Wow. I mean, wow. Deep. Too deep for my liking. I knew that unless I wanted to get myself into a very uncomfortable position, I had to lighten things up a bit. My brain quickly analyzed the situation (hey, I don't get the best grades of all the guys in the class because of my amazingly good looks) to try to find a quick comment that would lighten the mood.

"Hey, as long as it's Granger, I really couldn't care less," I shrugged, expecting Blaise to laugh his rich laugh and us to transition back to that conversation we were having on Quidditch a bit earlier. I most definitely got a laugh, but not the one I expected. Blaise gave a low chuckle, closing his eyes and putting his head in his hands as if it were all too much for him.

"Come on, Draco, you know that I know you better than that," he mumbled, lifting his head from his hands to look me in the eye.

"What?" I asked, truly and utterly confused at what he meant. He knows me better than what?

"I know you better than to believe your petty little lies," he said, rolling his eyes. Oh, good, well that clears that up! I mean, I was confused before, but I totally get it now!

"What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?" I asked, genuinely not getting what he was going at.

"Oh come on, man, don't play dumb. I know that you like Granger," he sighed, exasperated.

"What?" I questioned again, sure that I had heard wrong. Was he accusing me of having a crush on GRANGER? I think I'd rather eat a Blast-Ended Screwt.

"I'm not the moron you think I am, Draco. I know you. I can tell that you feel something for her," Blaise explained, staring at my open, gaping mouth. "I mean, it's kind of obvious."

Obvious! Well, someone could've pointed it out to me!

"What the bloody hell are you going on about, Blaise?" I asked loudly, shooing away the pesky House Elves as they clamored to bring us our food. "Are you feeling all right? Your eyes _are_ kind of red..."

"Piss off, Draco, I know you too well to let you brush this over." Damn! He discovered my sinister plan! "We need to talk."

"About what? There's nothing to talk about! I don't have any feelings for Granger! You're off your rocker!" I glared at him, my eyes boring into his dangerously, trying to tell if their was any form of laughter or any evidence that this was a joke in his eyes. There was none. "You sound almost as crazy as Dumbledore!"

Blaise simply sighed defeatedly, obviously knowing that he wouldn't get anywhere with this discussion tonight.

"Fine," he said, pushing himself out of his chair. "Fine," he said again, marching toward the fruit-covered door. He was about to push through it when he paused for a moment undecidedly and turned around, staring at me.

"But when you figure out that you're crazy in love with one of your worst enemies and have no idea what to do, don't come crying to me."

With that, he stormed out the door, the angriest I've seen him since I called him a doodie-rag when we were seven. I mean, what was up with him? How can he be mad? We come in here, perfectly content with the conversation and two minuted later he's yelling at me for not admitting to liking someone that I hate!

Unless...

NO! It doesn't mean anything that my best friend, who knows me better than anyone else (including myself), thinks that I like someone. Do you hear me, you pathetic group of morons? It doesn't mean anything!

Blaise and I made up from our little fight quite quickly afterwards (the fact that we had to choose partners in Potions and he was the only person I would even consider working with helped to speed things along). I apologized for yelling at him and he apologized for yelling at me. Everything was going as smoothly as the Hogwarts Express until he gave me a sidelong glance (he's getting very good at those) and spoke up when we were about thirty minutes into making our potion (some weird thing to help you stay awake, though Blaise said it would never take the place of coffee).

"So," he started, "have you thought about what I said?"

"No," I answered so quickly and harshly that I thought that my tongue would fall out. "I haven't, actually."

"Oh, alright then..." Blaise trailed off. "Then I guess that it won't interest you that she was found near the library today, petrified."

"_What_?!" I yelled so loudly that even Snape glared at me. I immediately lowered my voice to a whisper. "You're joking, right?" Blaise looked up at me, biting his lip.

"Yeah, I'm playing a late April Fool's Day joke that the girl that you love has been petrified," he said, rolling his eyes. Suddenly, however, he turned very sober and looked at me with a caring, almost pitying expression. "Are you gonna be alright?"

"Who, me?" I gave a pathetic laugh that sounded so unrealistic that I think Potter could see right through it. "Why wouldn't I be?" Blaise just looked at me disbelievingly, as though he couldn't trust me. The nerve!

"Well, you were kind of jumpy when I told you Granger was petrified..."

"That doesn't mean anything," I countered.

"Sure," he replied.

"And then she slapped me! Can you believe it?! The little Mudblood slapped me!"

I had rushed back to the common room as soon as I could after Granger went psycho and whipped me across the face, sure that Blaise would be there, reading his book as always. He was, and I had just finished relaying the day's events and was currently awaiting Blaise's reaction. I expected shock or disbelief that Granger would pull something like this. I mean, he's my buddy, he could've shown a little respect... He at least could've said that she'd pulled a Dumbledore on us and should be in St. Mungo's. However, Blaise will be Blaise, and the only reaction I got was for him to break out laughing.

"What!! What is so goddamn funny?" I yelled, annoyed that all he was doing was laughing at me. If I hadn't known him since I was four and if he didn't have blackmail up to Wazzoo on me, I would've hexed him into next week.

"You really _do_ love her, don't you?" Ok, breathe. In. Out. In. Out. As much as you want to, a nicely placed jelly-legs won't solve anything.

I was finally able to calm down (though it was hard with Blaise still chortling in the background) and ask him what he meant in a calm, collected manner.

"I'M GONNA BLOODY KILL YOU!! WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING THAT?!"

He kept on laughing.

"Ok, Ok, I'm good now," he said as his chuckling died down. I wanted to strangle him. "You were kind of freaked when she slapped you, right?"

"Well, yeah," I answered, not sure where he was going with this and deciding to keep my guard up. "It was a pretty good slap, too." I put my hand over the bruise on my face, smiling slightly for some unknown reason as I remembered the fury in her eyes as she charged forward to attack me.

Blaise smirked at me in a superior way, as if he knew something that I didn't know.

"What?" I asked, wiping the weird grin off of my face before he noticed it.

"You smiled," he answered, his smirk widening. Damn!

"So?" I shot back. "That doesn't mean anything."

Blaise just smiled again and went back to reading his book.

My eyes were locked on the vision of the gorgeous girl walking arm in arm with the Durmstrang champion in front of me. She looked beautiful... Like a goddess. I felt entranced by the sight of her; I couldn't look away. I knew that it was in my best interest to just throw a quick insult at her and be done with it; but I, Draco, Malfoy, for once in my life, was speechless.

"Is that... Granger? With Krum?" Pansy nosily questioned, craning her short little stubby neck to try and see above the Durmstrangs in front of us (who I was convinced were on steroids).

"Yeah, I think so," I absent-mindedly answered, still fighting my mind to form a coherent thought and stop thinking about the way that Hermione's baby-blue dress complimented her light skin tone.

About two hours later (that seem like 300 when you're in the company of Pansy), I was sitting in my chair from the feast, downing another gulp of the horrid punch they were serving (that wasn't even spiked), watching two people that I rather disliked waltz arrogantly around the dance floor. I mean, really, with the way Krum was strutting around with Granger, you'd think that he actually _liked _being in the company of the little know-it-all. Why would he ask_ her_ to the ball? She was a horrible dancer (I guess the twelve uses of dragon's blood took up all of the space in her big head, leaving no room for frivolous things like dancing and etiquette), she talked way too much, and she wasn't even pretty... Although the dim lights of the twinkling stars from the ceiling above were shining elegantly on her rubicund visage, making her face light up joyously as she giggled at something her Bulgarian Bon-Bon said.

"Hey," a voice called out from behind me, making me startle and tear my eyes away from the pair on the dance floor. Blaise stood before me, dressed in robes that were the exact color of his stormy grey eyes. Without waiting for invitation, he plopped down on the chair on my left (seeing as the one on my right was occupied with my pug-faced date, who was currently blabbering on about some beauty spell to Millicent Bullstrode). "Looks like you're having a gay old time, huh?"

I grunted in acknowledgment, letting my eyes wander back to granger and Krum (who, because of the way he was basically feeling up the little know-it-all with his hand on her back, I currently hated. I mean, if someone sees them like that, they might think that he actually wanted her). Blaise's eyes discreetly shifted to the direction that mine were pointing, and he snorted.

"Yeah, I figured that you would be a little pissed about that," he acknowledged, his face smiling, but his eyes solemn.

"Well, yeah," I answered, not moving my gaze from the twirling couple. "I mean, going to a ball with someone like Granger will totally ruin his image. He'll be lower on the social charts than Eloise Midgeon! Not even a Wronski Feint can get him out of this one."

"Wow, Draco, you're getting even more predictable than before," Blaise chuckled, tilting his head in curiosity. "Let me guess: First you thought about how perfect Granger seemed. Then you caught yourself having un-pureblood thoughts about a mudblood, so you thought listed everything wrong with her that you could think of. Then you started getting jealous of Krum, so now you're bugging on him. Am I right?"

I sat there, staring at him, my mouth gaping like the Weasel's when he gets asked a question in Potions.

"I'll take that as a yes."

My eyes were still glued to him as he stood up, smirked sadly, shook his head at me like I'm some pathetic little House Elf, and walked away. But that doesn't mean anything.

The surge of jealousy that soared through me as Krum leaned in to kiss Granger on the cheek doesn't mean anything. But hey, maybe it does.

Maybe it means that I'm gay...

"Flying Frogs," I mumbled, shifting my books to one hand as a portrait of some old guy drinking tea nodded curtly and swung open to allow me entrance to my common room. My _scarlet and green _common room. Yeah, I'll give you one guess who the Head Boy and Girl are. If you guessed me and Hermione, you've won a new Nimbus 2002! If you guessed Goyle and Pansy, well, you still win the Nimbus (if I "lost" it, my father might buy me a Firebolt).

As obvious as it may seem to you, I was thoroughly in shock when I got the news in my letter. I mean, seeing as Potter's been Dumbledore's "little sugar-booger" for years now, I never thought, even though I _am_ vastly more intelligent then him and don't get in detention with Snape once a day, that I would get the position. I was really stunned and excited... Until I told Blaise. When I revealed my news to him, he immediately began to laugh uproariously.

When I asked what he was laughing about, he pleasantly reminded me of something that my mind must've hid from myself in an attempt to have me not commit suicide by jumping off a painfully high cliff (shame my mother likes me): This means that I'll be sharing a common room with GRANGER. As painful as the idea seemed then, I had no idea what was coming...

Anyway, I stepped into my scarlet and green common room (which continues to shock me every time I go in there; it feels like it's Christmas year-round, although the air in the room is less than jolly), prepared to flop down in the plushy green armchair and nap (I had a long day... Double Divination and Care of Magical Creatures... That's a_ lot_ of mocking in a short period of time). However, it seemed Merlin was against me, as the know-it-all was sitting in_ my_ chair, doing the same Astronomy chart that I was totally planning_ not_ to complete.

"Granger," I snarled, annoyed with the situation and just wanting to crash, "What are you doing in my chair when there is a perfect _scarlet_ seat for you right over there?" I gestured to the chintz armchair facing her on the opposite side of the rather puny table we were forced to work at by the fire.

"Well, " she started, clearly pleased with her ability to annoy me to oblivion, "While _you_ were out with your cronies abusing your position as Head Boy by unfairly docking points from Gryffindor, I was in here having tea with Harry."

"I don't need to know your life story, Granger; just tell me why you're in my chair!"

"Alright, alright, I was getting there," she said, glaring at me. "Harry sat down in my usual chair, so instead of pointlessly dragging another chair from the other side of the room, I simply sat in yours, thereby learning that it's by far more comfortable."

I sighed.

"So you're telling me that you're sitting in _my_ Slytherin chair because you don't want to sit in your chair anymore?" I asked, pondering how many times the word "chair" could appear in a conversation before the people talking were considered mad.

"Yeah, that's basically the idea," Granger concluded the conversation by returning to her Astronomy homework, thereby dismissing me. I sighed again exasperatedly, sinking into the disgustingly colored armchair across form her. I groaned when I realized that she was right, it was definitely less comfortable than my usual chair. I looked up just in time to see her smirk, a reaction to my groan. Well, fine. Whatever. I don't care, she can sit wherever she likes. I let out a silent chuckle as I thought of what Blaise would say if he had seen the exchange. _You really are in love with her, aren't you, Draco?_

I leaned back in my chair for a minute before having to sit up and rub my back; the chair really was horrible, no wonder Granger walks so weirdly. And to think that I always thought it was only because she had a stick up her ass.

Since my previous plans of plopping down and sleeping until Weasley was Minister of Magic were basically destroyed by the stick up the ass chair, I sighed and yanked out the same Astronomy chart that Granger was pouring over like it was freakin Hogwarts, A History or something. Pulling my quill and ink out of my bag, I lazily flipped the hair out of my eyes and shifted once more before settling down for what would most likely be the quietest study time ever.

I don't know how long we sat like that, the only noise betwen us the sound of quills scratching against parchment and the occasional tapping of fingers against the wooden table when someone came to a particularly difficult constellation to chart. I had just finished my charting of Venus and couldn't take another minute of sketching dots and circles on coordinate points. I looked up, praying for _something_ that could take my mind off of anything more than 1,000 feet above the ground. However, unless you find watching the fascinating antics of the Giant Squid through the window entertaining (I, personally, do not), there was nothing to distract me.

But then a movement opposite of me at the table caught my eye. Granger, apparently lost for an answer on her chart, was frowning confusedly, a small wrinkle line appearing between her eyebrows. She bit her lip lightly, teeth grazing the soft flesh as her eyes darted back and forth across the parchment in front of her. The feathery end of her quill tickled her neck as she dragged it up and down her creamy skin subconsciously, following a trail between her ear and collar of her shirt.

I was finally shocked to my senses after a few minutes of staring when she finally understood the problem, her eyes alight with knowledge and pride that she had figured it out. I snapped my eyes off of her, silently scolding myself. Not for looking at her, of course, but for not getting enough rest... I mean, I had to be seriously tired if I was actually watching Granger. _No more late night Quidditch practices, Draco._

I glanced back down at my paper, wondering if I should continue working on it or go upstairs. I finally had decided that my obvious lack of sleep (and sanity) was more pressing than wherever Venus was this time of year when the lingering silence was broken by a voice from the chair opposite me-- _my_ chair.

"It should be on the right of the North Star, not the left."

"What?" I asked, perturbed that Granger had said something right as I was about to go upstairs.

"You're charting of the planet Venus," she explained, leaning slightly across the minuscule table to point out the positioning of the globe that I had just finished charting. "It's in the wrong position. It should be on the right side of the North Star from the angle that you're charting it from."

"Why the bloody hell would you tell me that, Granger?" I sighed, covering my eyes with my hand and squeezing my temples with my middle finger and thumb as if my head would collapse under the pressure of the two digits... And suddenly-- it did. A floodgate seemed to open in my mind; a rush of emotions poured over me as I sat there: Waves of frustration, confusion, and something undefinable rushed over me as my thoughts became open.

Everything felt so amazingly CLEAR... So much that I felt that if I just reached out a little, just a little, I could grasp my emotions and understand myself as easily as Blaise can. But that doesn't mean anything, does it? Well, perhaps it does... It probably means I've gone temporarily insane.

"What?" she queried, peering at me confusedly, her eyebrows laced together perplexedly, eyes darting around my face as if I was one of the problems she was having difficulty solving.

"I mean, " I began, lifting my hand from my face and running it through my hair as I tend to do when I begin a rant, "Why would you tell me that I was doing my homework wrong?" When she continued to stare at me baffledly, I plunged on. "Why would you bother notifying me that I had charted Venus wrong?"

"Well, I saw that it was incorrect, so I mentioned it," she answered, hesitating at my seemingly deranged questions.

"But... _Why_?" I asked, jumping out of the stick-up-the-ass chair and running my hand through my hair again, my breathing growing erratic. "Why would it matter to _you?"_

"I--" she started, her caramel eyes wide as she attempted to discontinue my rant. But she couldn't stop me. I needed to yell, to yell at her, to make her seem less damn COMPOSED... Not like when she was sitting there perfectly, her feathered quill mapping out plains, unattainable plains that called to be touched, yearned to be caressed...

"No, seriously!" My voice rose with my annoyance, putting my already Potter-like angst on an even bigger pedestal for her to see. But she, she could see right through me anyways. Blaise could, and I knew she could. And I had to yell at her for it, I had to hate her for it. "Are you such an arrogant little know-it-all that you have to show off by correcting me like some I'm some half-witted first year!"

"I didn't mean--" she began to protest my words, but I cut her off. She knew I was confused, she knew I couldn't sort out what I was feeling, and she still had the gall to try to deny that she understood my emotions.

"You know, just because you've freaking memorized the exact freaking wording of every freaking book in the whole freaking library, doesn't mean you can treat me like a moron!"

"Well, if the shoe fits..." she spat, pushing herself out of her chair so she could look me in the eye.

"If the... WHAT SHOE?! You see, this is why I can't stand you... you make everyone around you, even teachers, feel like idiots!"

"Well it's better than making them all feel inconsequential like you do!"

I took a step toward where she was, my insanity calling for me to keep yelling at her, to keep watching her cheeks tinge more and more pink like the Weaselette's as she shouted back, to keep waiting for something.

"Well at least I don't sit in the library all day like some social leper!"

"So what if I don't rely on my daddy's connections to get good grades?! I for one can get O's without being a low-life kiss-up to Snape!"

"I'm not a kiss-up! I'm charming... more than you could say. The only person you've charmed is that Bulgarian bird-faced Krum!"

Her eyes flashed.

Her lips snarled.

Her body tensed.

Her angry blush deepened.

Her mouth opened to spit out her comment...

And all of the sudden, before my mind could comprehend what my body was doing and force it to stop it's crazy, lunatic scheme, I had pulled Granger in flush with me and was kissing her like I never wanted to stop.

It was like a floodgate opened in my mind, spilling out all of it's contents. I could finally see everything; I could understand everything. I finally GOT what Blaise had been trying to tell me ever since that day in our second year: I was in love with Granger.

It was completely obvious from the yearning way my lips cradled hers, gently yet forcefully, willing her not to pull back. It was apparent in the way my hands grasped her robes tightly, pulling her as close to me as she could get. It was evident in the way my body warmed instantly the moment she started to respond.

We kissed rather enthusiastically for a while, bumping the puny table over in the jostle, sending our Astronomy charts flying. After two (or twenty) minutes of intense kissing, she finally pulled back from me, trying to force air into her long-deprived lungs.

"You-you _kissed me!_" she gasped, astonished.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean anything," I replied, leaning down to capture her mouth again.

That ended our dialogue for the night.


End file.
